Be Seeing You
by WolfKitty
Summary: That moment seemed to become photographed in her mind, the way he appeared to just be content in sharing a conversation with her. He actually looked happy. ...And then she blinked. He was nowhere to be seen.


Oh man, do forgive me for this one. I've been getting back into my lovely Tomb Raider games what with the new one being announced and all, and I had replayed Legend over not too long ago. I apologize if any characters seem too OOC in this, I'm a little nervous about writing Lara specifically since, well...I feel like I wouldn't do her much justice, haha. This is also the first ficlet I've ever written for this series, but I'm welcome to criticism, so I know how to improve it.

* * *

Thunder echoed and rocked through the mansion as the clock struck eleven-thirty AM. The storm had only just begun and they were twenty minutes into it, the rain beat hard against the mansion's roof and against its windows. The power had been knocked out, and the abode's inhabitants were setting up sources of light until it was ready to come back on. Thankfully there were enough windows in the house to let regular daylight seep inside.

The manor's owner was collecting a few books into her arms to research on, while her assistant brought her a flashlight. He had glanced at one of the hidden corridors that wound throughout her house and shuddered—even her home had to be a tomb of its own, it seemed. The movement earned an amused smile from her. Their conversation was nothing of major importance, though with the two of them, it always seemed somewhat...delicate. Something interesting. Her tech expert was entertaining at times, though he was best with electronics rather than archeology or history.

It was sometimes intricate. Where she had an endless thirst for discovering new things, he seemed fixated with where everything was already at. With her, however, she always managed to bring astounding discoveries to his sight. It was an amazing thing, really. She had seen things that many others would die to have footage of, even so much as to be outside of the ruins she had found.

While on the same topic, her words seemed to bring him out of a small trance. "There's no place I can't reach, Alister." She turned with a small fragment of a confident nod as she placed a book back in its place on a shelf, adjusting the candle she held in another hand. "If it interests me, I'll find a way to get to it."

There was a brief silence between them, that she wondered if he was paying attention at all for a moment. He had taken that time to take her words into consideration, since she had proven them to be true more than once, in the most terrifying way possible sometimes. The amount of ledges and crevices she had traversed, especially when it came to heights, he felt queasy. Especially the heights. Always the damned heights, of all things, it frightened the daylights out of him when she would look down.

"As far as I've seen, I'm finding that hard to argue with." He piped as he adjusted his glasses.

She turned back around to pluck another book from his hands and flip through a few pages. "Glad to hear." She paused on a page, but continued to speak. "The unexplored can be more fascinating than you'd imagine. Especially up close and in person."

His only response to that was raised eyebrows and a glance at the floor out of disapproval, along with his mind seeming to wander at her words. This is where she and he usually differed in a sense. She could never get enough of new finds. In a way, it was intriguing, just how capable she was of setting out to find answers, or to simply go where she had not been before. She was one of the best at what she did, if not _the_ best. Most everyone knew who she was, what she did. She had a way of persuading others, even though it was mostly with violence. Not many seemed to know what she was capable of, they underestimated her. She didn't need an army of special forces or dozens of mercenaries at her back to complete her task and achieve her goal. She did it all on her own.

_She_ was the one who did the outside dirty work, who bloodied and bruised herself out on the field, who had battled unrealistically astounding forces and foes and had come out alive. He didn't know an enormous amount about her or her past, but the things he had heard from her, stories of places she had been, he had to wonder how she was even still standing right there in front of him. Sure, she had him, and their friend Zip who did all the tech work, and Winston, her butler, and various other allies she had made over the years...but ultimately, she went and dealt with her problems on her own.

He looked back up again, and then there was more silence, only this was a different kind of quietness. She had said something else, but he hadn't really heard her as he had begun to focus on her face, was suddenly aware of every detail: the symmetry of her lips, her brows, the way her hair was so neatly pulled back into a ponytail and the way it cascaded over her shoulder as she was looking down—it only slightly frayed and frizzy from having come from the gym prior to the power outage. She had blinked and that caught a small fraction of his attention to her eyes. The way the pale light from the storm outside shone in and on her skin seemed...wonderful.

Saying she was strong was an understatement. Of all the things she had been through, it was a wonder she had no scars on her face, of all places. He was certain she had to have cuts and bruises there before. When he focused just that tiny bit closer on her, he could actually see very, very faint hints of small scars plastered across her cheek, neck and shoulders. They were signs of a survivor, a born fighter who had been through many battles and adorned her body. He had heard but fractions of the stories of the tombs she had been in, of the enemies she had faced, most of which seemed...unbelievable. But she had proof, and it wasn't just the artifacts she collected. It was _her_, the fact that she was there, in one piece, still breathing and perfectly healthy after all she had been through. If she ever had moments of weakness, he had not seen them yet.

He was admiring her.

Lara Croft—this woman, this gorgeous, _powerful_ woman was standing there and conversing with him.

And then, out of nowhere, his mind recalled a scene seen from the little camera on her headset, from when she actually _had_ lost her grip on a cliff and had tumbled rather far before hitting the ground below. His stomach turned over—it seemed to jolt him back into reality.

"You actually...worry me, from time to time." He had quietly blurted out, blinking and glancing at the pages of the book she had in her hands before looking back up at her.

She had done the same, though seemed to be mildly surprised. Only a hint of a smile appeared on her lips. "Is it the height problem, again?"

He squinted an eye and twisted his lips. "It's a lot more terrifying when it's happening right before your eyes. It just," He waved one of his hands about in a circle, supposedly trying to find the right words. "it feels like you're actually connected to what you see. That it's _yourself_ in that position instead."

He blinked again and his attention went back to her face. There seemed to be more amusement growing on her than he thought he was capable of pulling off.

"That's an interesting way to look at it."

He sighed and shifted the couple of books he was holding into the other arm, raising an arm again to adjust his glasses once more. "Well, I mean it's _still_ terrifying knowing it was _you _out there, but—" He halted himself midway and placed a hand on his hip, turning his head away. "Oh bloody hell." He grumbled to no one in particular. One could tell he was suddenly ridiculously frustrated at himself. How his mouth had decided to just stop working properly was a rare occurrence albeit how he could sometimes stammer.

He tried so hard sometimes, he really did, for both her and the others. He was so jittery and yet eccentric. She recalled one time when she had scraped up her right knee and thigh rather badly and he had simply stood there biting his lip the whole time she was bandaged up, assuming he wasn't used to seeing such things. Her line of work, however, seemed to tone him down a bit to become more accustomed to it all.

It was rather cute, she admitted to herself this once.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Alister Fletcher?"

The mere _look_ on his face in response to her question—"Of course not," There was a tiny indication of curiosity upon him for a split second. "you just terrify me sometimes." Almost out of automatic response to correct an error, he then verbally stumbled. "Concern me, I mean. Surprise me. Er...you just...oh, blast it all I'm just blathering now."

Right then he wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard her chuckle at his rambling. When he looked at her he could see the stretched smile upon her face, which wasn't something often seen on her—by God he had actually gotten her to laugh. He wasn't sure if he should have been embarrassed or proud.

"I appreciate it, Alister, truly." She had given a light pat to the side of his arm before taking another book from his hands to place it on the shelf. "Though I can take care of myself."

"I know." His voice grew quiet now, as though their conversation was seemingly dying down. He continued to hand her books to place back into the shelf until they had all been put away, leaving her to pick up the candle nearby to leave.

"I'll go check on Winston and Zip and see how they're doing." She rubbed at her forehead. "Especially Zip what with all those electronics down and out..." She mumbled.

"I still have some reading up to do for my dissertation, so..." When he spoke he seemed a little distant, as though his mind was somewhere else at the moment.

This caught her attention just before she turned to leave and she looked up at him once more, choosing to examine him for a minute. What had just happened was a first, but it was flattering, and, dare she even say it again, cute. She was never really one to become so attached to a person; giving off a mostly cold and intimidating exterior, and she preferred it that way. But she would be lying to herself if she said she didn't care for the safety of these she worked with. She would be more than willing to connect her boot to the head of anyone who tried to harm them, given the chance.

The poor lad seemed off. She had noticed it a moment ago too when she had spoken and he didn't respond to her right away. A flicker of curiosity rose to her.

"Alister?"

"Mm?" He turned back to her.

"You're sure you're alright?" Her head was tilted ever so slightly.

He let loose a minor smile. "Of course. I'll just get back to my studying."

After what seemed like forever, another rumble of thunder was heard outside. Lara returned the smile; in a way, she already knew what he was thinking, what he really wanted to say, but it was almost as though they already had a mental understanding of it all. She was aware that he cared about her, and she had to admit she'd feel like a fool if she tried to say she didn't feel the same. She did with them all. And, she accepted that sometimes, certain things didn't need to be spoken in order to understand them.

Almost as if she was going into a similar daze he had been in earlier with her, she had focused on his face for some reason. The way the light outside barely cast shadows on his figure, his glasses just lightly shining against the dark, still giving her that admiring, yet nervous smile. That moment seemed to become photographed in her mind, the way he simply stood there and looked at her without fear or intimidation, seeming to be content in just being in her presence, that close to her to share a conversation in which neither of them were out being put through environmental hell, or having to watch said person go through it. He actually looked happy.

And then she blinked.

He was nowhere to be seen.

Reality came crashing back down within a matter of seconds.

There she stood. Lara Croft, world-famous archaeologist and adventurer, who had escaped and taunted death more than once, was frozen in the pouring rain outside, the smell of smoke thick in the air. Rampaging flames crackled violently behind her, sirens nearly blinding and deafening her as medics, police and firetrucks surrounded her manor.

She had trained herself to not become emotionally volatile. She always managed to keep a clear and fixed head, which was a very good thing to have on the field when dealing with tight situations. She thought on her feet, and her feet were fast.

Except now, she could barely feel anything.

She didn't watch as they put out the fires on her mansion. She had already explained as well as she could what had happened, without arising too much suspicion on what was really going on to avoid panic...or them to think she was out of her mind. Zip and Winston were being looked after, she had made it clear that she wanted them taken care of.

Only, when she saw them leaving with a body bag on a stretcher, she felt as though something just stabbed at her insides.

"Wait," She called out to the paramedics, halting them in moving the stretcher into an ambulance. She carefully, tentatively, reached down to unzip the bag, only to expectantly reveal a one Alister Fletcher beneath the covers, eyes closed in a permanent slumber.

The memory that she had recalled seconds before seemed so vivid, and it was long prior to this whole mess she had dragged him and the others into. All the moments they shared came swirling back in a maelstrom of voices and memories, hearing how fascinated he sounded when he saw where she had been, the little incidents where he would panic out of her own safety, how he would sometimes sit and share a book in research with her. And there he lay, lifeless and bloodstained and to be taken away to a cold holding place. She had once again escaped the fires of death...and yet instead they claimed another person close to her. _This_ was because of her. _This_ had happened because of her.

A spike of anger and fury was suddenly riled within her. Unable to bear the sight much longer, she zipped the bag up and stepped back, allowing the paramedics to continue on their way. Externally she was doing fairly well at maintaining a stern balance of her temper, but on the inside, her blood felt like it was boiling.

"Thank you." Was her barely heard response to them as she turned around, looking at the ground.

She had promised herself this wouldn't happen again, had said that she wasn't going to lose anymore of her friends. But then who was she kidding? She should have prepared herself. She should have known that the people she worked with would be vulnerable to the chaos she stirred up. In a way, she was already aware of it, but the whole time she had assumed that they would be safe if they were far away from her and her enemies, that they were at home. But...even then, she never could have predicted this. Even then, the death of someone you were close to, someone you had worked with for long enough, was still...hurtful.

"_Alister's dead...and it's just business, as usual?"_

Zip's words rung like a choir of bells in her head. She felt a headache coming on. At first, yes, it was. It usually was, wasn't it? But, she had to think, even if it usually had been, it had never put her or her comrades through such emotional turmoil. _Or_ had destroyed her bloody house.

She blinked, then, and her mind went blank for a moment. She felt a warmth on her hands, catching her attention as she lifted her palms to see what it was. She should have been used to what she saw, having seen plenty of it throughout her life, be it her own or from another, it should have been nothing new.

But this was different. It was the blood of a colleague across her palms and fingers, delicately being washed away by the pouring rain. Where she had tried to apply pressure to the wound to prevent the bleeding. His groans of pain, slowly losing his breath, God help her the way he had grabbed her arm and shoulder as if he already knew he wasn't going to make it out of this one, the look of accepting death rising, and his face twisted in agony at the bullet that was buried within his chest. Even as he was aware he was dying she had desperately clasped her hands in place over his chest, refusing to let go and trying to whisper to him to reassure him.

_"See...you...in Avalon..."_

Another blink, coming back to reality. She looked up slightly. No. No, this was _far_ from business, now. There wasn't going to be anything to stop her from completing her mission and getting those artifacts she needed. Enough people had been killed at this point. Enough people had become casualties, all because of one foolish, blindly revengeful little...

She kept her back straight and strode forward towards Zip and Winston. Right now she wanted nothing more than to find Thor's belt, and then his hammer, and God above help anyone who tried to come between her and the people she intended to make suffer for what they did. There would be no more loose ends, no more destruction to her, her people or her property, no more tricks, no more beating around the bush. She had a job to do. This was the final straw.

_She_ was the one who had caused this.

And she was damned well going to finish it.


End file.
